The Future is Unwritten
by Su Freund
Summary: Ba’al’s execution sends Jack into an emotional tailspin and places his chances of romance with Sam in dire jeopardy
1. Chapter 1

Happy New Year Everyone!

My New Year gift for all J&S ship fans is a brand new story, which I will be posting in four parts over the coming week. Please note the dedication in my author's notes. I hope you enjoy this new story!

Su

Title: The Future is Unwritten

Category: Angst, Romance, Drama, Friendship

Content Level: Age 13+

Content Warnings: Some vulgar language and sexual situations

Pairings: Jack & Sam

Season: After "Continuum"

Spoilers: "Continuum" and anything before it

Summary: Ba'al's execution sends Jack into an emotional tailspin and places his chances of romance with Sam in dire jeopardy

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2009 Su Freund

Author's Note:

1. The title of this story is a shameless steal from Julien Temple's movie "Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten". Bless you Joe. I miss you.

2. Many thanks to ImmerRDA for her heroic efforts in beta reading and getting this fic back to me during difficult circumstances when her PC was uncooperative. As usual, her comments and suggestions helped me make this a better fiction. Any remaining mistakes, however, are entirely my own.

3. I dedicate this story to all those people who read and enjoyed my stories in 2008, particularly all those who took the time and trouble to send me feedback. Thank you for all your encouraging words about my work, which help feed my muse and keep me writing. I hope 2009 brings you everything you would wish for.

**The Future is Unwritten**

To describe the day's events as bizarre was an understatement. Witnessing an execution did not appear on Daniel Jackson's list of one hundred things to do before he died. Jack O'Neill's either, he reckoned. Despite that the execution was of an old enemy, and rescued a tormented host from the awful thrall of its parasitic symbiote, Ba'al's death was nowhere near as gratifying as he had imagined. Actually, it made him feel slightly queasy.

On and off, he'd kept a wary eye on his old friend Jack, trying to gauge his reaction to events. Jack was a tricky man to fathom and although he appeared either ebullient or composed, Daniel was concerned about what might be bubbling under the surface. He said as much to Sam and she agreed. O'Neill had many reasons to feel more than a little unsettled by the day's events.

Jack would never say anything to any of them about his feelings, of course. That was a bit too much to expect. His tendency toward internalization worried them and Daniel suggested they should not leave O'Neill to smolder alone. Sam concurred but they both realized Jack was likely to blow them off if they tried to interfere.

"It wouldn't hurt to ask him out for a drink, though, would it?" Daniel suggested. Sam looked thoughtful and nodded agreement, a vague idea brewing beneath her visibly troubled facade.

They had prepared one of the VIP rooms in anticipation of O'Neill's visit and expected him to stay. The general, however, had disappeared once they returned though the gate and now they were searching for him.

Despite trying to make it appear he was hunky-dory, O'Neill actually felt unclean and somehow tainted by the execution. Old Bocce was dead, yay and thrice yay, but long live Old Bocce – inside his head. The death he liked but the memories conjured by Ba'al's presence were not nearly as palatable.

In fact, the execution had not been even half as pleasurable as Jack had anticipated. Long, drawn out and boring, without much in the way of satisfaction at all. Now if he could have strangled the man with his bare hands, it might have been an immeasurably more agreeable experience. Okay, so it wasn't the host's fault, O'Neill knew that, but the very sight of the man disturbed and disgusted him. An utterly shudder inducing experience.

Try to shrug it off though he might - smile the smile, walk the walk and talk the talk – the whole oddly macabre and freakish event affected Jack more than he had expected. Feeling thoroughly contaminated, and an acute desire to be alone, he'd headed for the shower as quickly as possible as if he could purify himself through that action. Unfortunately, a man cannot wash away the thoughts inside his head quite so easily.

Not feeling in the least bit sanitized after his long hot shower, O'Neill changed into civvies determined to hit a couple of his old haunts in town. He sincerely hoped to get out of the mountain before any of his former team mates saw him, took pity and decided he required their company. Almost the last thing he needed was the likes of Daniel Jackson trying to creep inside his head. Jack could picture the hard sympathetic stares and hear the many dumb-assed probing questions Daniel would subject him to. No freakin' way!

A grotesque kind of coincidence intervened when Daniel and Sam happened to be walking down exactly the right corridor at precisely the right time. O'Neill left the changing room just as the pair rounded the corner and, naturally, the old team mates spotted his retreating back striding forcefully toward the elevator. They paused in their step, watching him march down the drab SGC corridor, close to leaving the mountain and them behind.

"Jack!" Daniel called after him.

'Crap!' cursed O'Neill inwardly. 'Close, but no cigar, Jack.' The only thing he could think to do offhand was pretend he hadn't heard.

When he found himself ignored, Daniel followed his friend, continuing to call out his name. Jack's obviously deliberate attempt to play avoidance frustrated him and incited his stubborn streak.

While searching for her former CO, however, Sam's reflections motivated her into taking some kind of action. She had been concocting her own plans, something she had been thinking about for a while now.

Sam had missed Jack and thought about him a lot over the past few months. The fight against the Ori and her subsequent posting to Atlantis had thwarted any possibilities of that relationship with him she still yearned for. Or at least, she still wanted the chance to try, but neither of them had kept their unspoken promises to each other. Now seemed like a good time to make the attempt.

She was thinking if they went for a friendly drink then nothing would be lost and at least she would have tried. If it didn't work out then it had just been a couple of old friends having a drink together, right? If it did, well, that would be great. So, no pressure. Not a date, just an amicable get together over a couple of beers. No harm no foul - and no embarrassment should nothing come of it.

Hence, Sam placed a restraining hand on Daniel's arm. "Back off Daniel," she growled, taking the archeologist by surprise. "Let me, please."

He was about to respond when she went tearing off down the corridor, leaving him standing there open-mouthed and wondering what she was up to. Curious, but trusting Sam and willing to go along, Daniel stood and simply watched.

"General O'Neill, sir!" she called, a voice Jack found difficult to ignore.

Reluctantly, he turned to face her and eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want, Carter?"

His aggressively defensive stance and tone intimidated her a little but she took a deep breath and carried on regardless, trying to quell her trepidation. You started it so finish it, Sam, she told herself.

"Um, after what we just witnessed I could use a drink sir. I wondered if you you'd like to come with."

O'Neill snorted, retorting in an irritated manner. "I'm tired, Carter. I just want to be alone."

He detected disappointment in her eyes, a dejected and wounded look, and something else slightly indefinable that got him thinking. The one thing he had miserably failed to do since leaving the SGC – express his more tender feelings for Carter. So, the shaken Jack softened his tone.

"Unless… um… you-you wanted… Carter, were you asking me out on a date?" he finally stammered.

It so seemed to him that this was what she intended. Wishful thinking on his part, perhaps. When she looked horrified, O'Neill became self-conscious about his apparently erroneous conclusion, cussing internally at what he considered must be a dead giveaway concerning his feelings for her. He had thought about her on and off in DC, contemplated calling her many times, but self-doubt had stifled any actual action. In fact, inaction seemed the best policy. Hadn't it always been so?

"A-a date? I… sir," she spluttered feeling her cheeks burn with consternation. "I… I just thought after everything you might need a drink, sir, with a friend."

Sam did not wish for Jack to think she was chasing him. These days, women appeared to ask men out on dates all the time but that did not seem the right thing to do with Jack. Not as far as she was concerned anyway. Sam had been waiting for him to make a move but it had never happened, and she never plucked up courage to pursue him.

O'Neill could not help but think that if he wanted a drink with a friend the last person he would choose would be Carter. They'd never had that kind of relationship, had deliberately avoided it most of the time. Her suggestion threw him, caught him by surprise. She had never asked him to go out for a drink, or anywhere else, with her before. He did not know how to respond or what she had in mind. Unless… His moments of indecision cost him dearly.

"Never mind. Forget it," she said hastily, turning tail and all but running down the passageway, passing Daniel without even a small acknowledgement of his presence. O'Neill stared after her, dumbly stupefied. It was not until she had already disappeared from view that he found his voice.

"Carter!" he shouted.

She heard but ignored him, wishing to hide from her humiliation. What had she been thinking, almost throwing herself at him like that? Then he brushed her off. His rejection should not have surprised her. If he had wanted to see her, he could have called anytime but he hadn't. Now, after making a fool of herself, how could she face him again?

Sam had thought to make something of an opportunity. Like Jack, uncertainty about the two of them had riddled her thoughts for months. Caught up in the moment, this had seemed like a good time to take action, but she had been wrong.

He was not interested in her, that much was clear. She should have realized, taken the hint. The general never contacted her unless work motivated his call. If he had wanted a more personal relationship, he would have done something about it by now. An almost totally lost hope and a small chance had provoked her actions today.

"Carter!" he called again, eliciting no response. O'Neill started after her down the corridor, close to colliding with the perplexed Daniel.

"What the hell did you just say to her, Jack?" he asked, thinking Jack had barely noticed he was there, not any more than Sam had.

"Nothin'," Jack replied brusquely, pushing past his old friend.

"It must have been something," Daniel persisted.

O'Neill was thinking Daniel could be just about the most irritating man on the planet. His friend never seemed able to give it up and simply back off. He stopped, facing Daniel with an irate glare.

"It's none of your damned business, Daniel, okay."

Daniel looked hurt and defensive. "I just want to help, Jack. You think I don't understand why you might be a bit antsy today?"

"I'm fine!" O'Neill barked.

"Sure you are," agreed Daniel in a sarcastic tone but Jack ignored him and continued on his way. "All right, if that's the way you want it," he said, throwing up his hands in a gesture of submission and walking off.

"I think I just screwed up big time," O'Neill admitted, pausing in his stride again and speaking to his friend's rapidly disappearing back. "Carter."

Daniel stopped, turning toward Jack. "Yeah, it doesn't take a genius to figure out you upset her." He thought his friend might say more but should have known better.

"So I should find her," O'Neill said, abruptly stalking away.

"Maybe you should leave it. Talk to her later." Jack, however, did not appear to be listening. "When you've both calmed down a bit…" he added to the empty air where his friend had previously been. Shaking his head in dismay and wondering what the heck was going on, he followed, thinking that if Jack didn't find Sam, perhaps he should.

Neither of them found her. Then, in no uncertain terms, O'Neill rejected Daniel's invitation to join him for a drink. The rebuff left his archeologist friend reeling, but ruminating on the subject of Jack's under the breath mutterings about Sam.

Meanwhile, she hid herself well until she thought the coast was clear and then snuck off home to lick her wounds. Sam did not want to speak to anybody. Instead, she opted to take a comforting long bath, wallowing in the hot steamy water and self-pity for quite a while. The bath made her feel a little bit better, although she still felt her cheeks flush at the thought of encountering the general again any time soon.

It was with shocked surprise then that, when she checked her beeping cell phone later on, her former CO's name came up on the caller ID. He had left two messages while she was bathing.

His first was a curse. "Shit, Carter, answer the damned phone will ya?" His tone was one of impatient annoyance and she stared mutely and apprehensively at the phone for a while before picking up the second message.

"Um, Carter, about that drink…" his voice said, sounding way more subdued, sorrowful and needy this time around. "I tried to find you earlier, but… well, there we are. I guess you didn't want to be found. I regret…" He heaved a sigh before continuing and did not complete his near apology. "I'm in O'Malley's if you want to… um, meet up. I'll get it if you don't come. I always was an ass. If you aren't here by nineteen thirty, I guess I'll just drink myself into a stupor. Bring Daniel, if you want but…" He trailed off and the message ended there.

Although his tone was contrite and conciliatory, she spent the next five minutes debating whether to go or not. Once she decided to give it a shot, Sam realized she was short of time and already late, so she hurriedly got ready.

Before leaving her house, she made an appeasing call to Daniel, who had also left a message. He was concerned about Jack, whom he had tried to raise without success, and about her. She reassured him while also warning him off going to O'Malley's. Jack had not genuinely sounded like he wanted Daniel to be there and that suited her just fine. Tonight, she wanted to see Jack alone. It was almost unheard of and that very fact was ripe and overdue for change.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you for the great feedback, folks. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :-)

**The Future is Unwritten, Chapter 2**

O'Malley's was busy but Sam spotted O'Neill easily, sitting alone at a table in the bar area drinking a beer.

"Carter, you came," he said when he saw her, as if it was the last thing he'd expected.

There was no real warmth in his greeting, no welcoming smile. Sam's heart sank. She wondered how much he had been drinking and if he was in maudlin mood.

"Are you all right, sir?" she asked cautiously before sitting.

"If you're subtly trying to ask me if I'm drunk, the answer is no. I've been nursing this one for the last half hour."

Jack had genuinely been hoping she would show up. He really needed her to, so refused to believe she would not come even though Carter was quite late. Uncertain of what he was going to do or say, he had not wanted to be inebriated if she arrived, feeling a clear head was required to deal with the situation.

Seeing she was ill at ease, O'Neill guessed he could not blame her for that. He knew she had been upset earlier but Jack had a problem. He was still uncertain how to tackle this meeting in any way, or how to make her feel more relaxed in his presence.

They had been fine earlier, before their encounter in the corridors of the SGC. At ease with each other, friendly even. O'Neill wasn't sure what had changed but knew he'd dropped the ball. He wanted to make things right.

"You want another?" she asked and, looking down at his glass, he shook his head and then met her eyes.

"Daniel coming?" he enquired.

"Um… no." Now Sam worried that she'd been mistaken about the intent of his message. "I could call him."

Jack shook his head and she was half relieved and half not. Sam might want to see him alone, but the fact of it was more difficult than she had imagined. Daniel's presence might have helped ease the obvious tension between them, but it also might have got in the way.

"Do you want to eat?" he offered.

"That would be good," she agreed readily, a faint smile on her lips.

"Great. I'm famished. Steak and fries will go down well around about now. I'll go check on a table."

He had made a reservation in anticipation of Carter's arrival but did not want her to know he had been that presumptuous. O'Neill thought it was not so much presumption as faint hope that she'd forgive him for being so unnecessarily off with her earlier.

Her shock proposition had shaken him so much that he'd got himself into a tangle. Ba'al's malevolent influence had done nothing to disentangle him. In fact, Jack knew it was a big factor in his currently depressed and irritated mood. Even at his execution, the snake had managed to piss him off. Arrogant son of a… Dead arrogant son of a… That was something, he supposed.

Ba'al's legacy still bothered him sometimes, even though he tried to avoid remembering that nightmare captivity. The memory, once escaped, was like a genie in a bottle - although without the benefit of the three wishes - nearly impossible to get it back in, to hide it again.

The time spent in Ba'al's fortress was one of his bitterest and most terrifying memories. Easily scarier than his imprisonment and torture in Iraq because at least he could have died there, or maybe even have escaped or been rescued. Ba'al had left him with no hope whatsoever - nothing to look forward to except excruciating agony, yet another rude awakening from death in a brightly lit sarcophagus to face even more suffering, and the slow demise of his soul.

Jack didn't even have thoughts of Sara and Charlie to keep him going in those days of dire need, like he'd clung to in Iraq. He had nothing and no one. Except the apparent figment of Daniel Jackson, but he found no hope there. His isolation and loneliness simply fuelled his despair.

Recalling that horror could make the bile rise to his throat and far worse: shakes, sweats, nausea, vivid recall and appalling dreams. They had a name for it. Post traumatic stress. O'Neill, however, had never confessed to such a thing, nor been treated properly for it. He had bluffed his way through the psych evaluations and got on with things, internalizing as was in his character.

He kept up the pretense that he was over it and even came close to convincing himself it was true. But a man put through that kind of torment is never truly whole again. Jack was used to big chunks of himself going missing so he didn't even know it half the time, or he pretended not to.

The Goa'uld System Lord had been a thorn in his and the SGC's side ever since then. Revenge might have been sweet if he had been the one to exact it. Watching him die had been a creepy kind of pleasure, but had let the genie out of that tightly corked bottle. O'Neill was trying not to think about it, trying to find a semblance of normality.

Maybe Sam gave him the chance to imprison that genie and firmly stopper the bottle again. He hoped so. Jack was reaching out to her, but it wasn't easy for him. It might have helped both of them if she had known this was his goal.

Returning to the table a couple of minutes later, he nodded at Sam. "They can fit us in. You coming?" He reached out a hand and when she failed to take it, awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets.

Sam had been too surprised to take the proffered hand and she wanted to kick her own ass for her failure. She so wanted this evening to go well but was attempting to dampen her expectations for fear of disappointment, which fed her anxiety.

Being Jack's friend was better than nothing but far less than she wished for. It might be too late for anything else, but she still hoped. Hope never hurt, right? Sam wasn't necessarily convinced this was true but after his initial rejection of her overture, the fact that he had called kept that hope alive.

As they walked toward their table, Sam was conscious of his hand in the crook of her back, steadily steering her. She felt a little goose-bumpy and increasingly anxious, wondering how he would have reacted if she had taken that offered hand. Sam wished she knew what she was doing, had confidence that everything would work out, but she didn't. Her heart was fearful, plagued with doubts.

"We'll get a couple of drinks with the food. That okay?" he said gruffly.

"Sure," she agreed.

They discussed the menu and drinks and ordered in a civil manner, then fell prey to creeping silence, uncomfortable in each other's company. Both were too tense to relax and neither wanted to confess it. The kind of day they'd spent together did not help any. Ba'al's execution had been a difficult thing to witness for many reasons.

"So, how are you feeling, sir?" Sam asked to relieve the awkward silence.

"Feeling, Carter? Fine."

"I thought after today you might…"

"Want to talk about it?" He laughed cynically. "Snowball's chance in hell." His derisive tone was off-putting, exacerbating Sam's apprehension. So they spoke very little while they ate, surrounded mainly by dead air with the occasional comment trailing off into uncertain taciturnity.

"Daniel's worried about you," she ventured to say as she finished her steak and salad. "You should get in touch."

O'Neill snapped back at her angrily. "I ignored him for a reason and I'm glad he's not here."

In truth, he wanted this evening alone with Sam too. Jack had only mentioned inviting Daniel in case she felt the need to have him there – as a kind of chaperone and ice-breaker, if you will.

"How many times, Carter?" he continued heatedly. "I don't want to talk about it, all right? Not to Daniel and particularly not to you."

"Yes, sir," she said blanching and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. His words smarted.

Having effectively shut their conversation down, O'Neill found the ensuing hush disconcerting. It lasted until they had finished the chocolate fudge cake dessert. He didn't know what to say to her, how to deal with her on a personal level, and wondered if she felt the same way. Probably.

"I shouldn't have snapped," he said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. This was as close to an apology as Sam was going to get and she knew it.

"I understand."

"I'm just feeling edgy, okay?" he said by way of justification for his bad mood.

"It's all right, sir. I get it."

Jack didn't think she did but said nothing. The silence hung over them once more like a cold November fog.

"This is… awkward," she ventured after a while. "It was probably a bad idea."

"Probably," he agreed. "I'm not really feeling very sociable right now."

Sam's unease increased as she surmised he did not really want to be there at all or, more to the point, that he did not really want her to be there. Feeling slightly nauseous and clammy, the pit of her stomach knotted with tension, she questioned why he had called. Sam had hoped and believed they still shared something special, that their time had come after all the years of wanting more. Right now, however, her former CO seemed as much out of reach as ever, perhaps even more so.

"I'd better go," she said feeling mortified. This was not going well at all. Not what Sam had hoped for in any conceivable way. Reaching for her purse, not wishing to be in his debt, she got out some money to pay for her meal, hoping to make a hasty if somewhat undignified retreat. Sam desperately needed to get away and hide from him again.

"Don't!" he cried emphatically and she froze, surprised at his insistent tone given what he'd just said about feeling antisocial. Sam thought he would be pleased to see the back of her, to end their calamitous evening quickly. It seemed she was wrong.

Jack, meanwhile, was not sure what he was doing but realized at heart that he truly did not want to be alone, notwithstanding his unfriendly mood. He wished for this seemingly jinxed evening to end but not like this. It was not so much their evening together he wanted to stop but its more disastrous aspects and their potentially devastating consequences.

He was unwilling to let her go, to miss his chance. One thing O'Neill knew was that he wanted Sam, had deep feelings for her that he wished to explore. He had to take a chance, had to mitigate the disaster.

"Misery loves company," he muttered glumly, surprising Sam even more.

"You're miserable, sir?" she asked, looking sad, as if she felt sorry for him. Sam did not want to leave him like that, not when he had begged so vehemently. It seemed the wrong thing to do. So against her better judgment she decided to stay put.

As pity was the last thing he wanted right now, Jack's response to her question was cutting.

"See," he replied, jabbing a finger in her direction. "You calling me "sir" all the time really doesn't help with the whole let's be friends and talk about it scenario, Carter." She didn't reply, merely worrying her bottom lip with her teeth nervously and fidgeting with her purse.

"I'll take you home," he said eventually, regretting his outburst but saying nothing to improve the awkwardness they shared. Jack realized he was going about this the wrong way but could not seem to shake his bad and defensive mood. Maybe now was the worst possible time to be pursuing Sam. Certainly, he was making a total mess of it so far. Taking her home and putting them both out of their mutual misery seemed a wise move, and perhaps he would still get the opportunity to redeem himself. Jack wasn't going to get that chance if he let her go home alone.

"No need. I think I can just about make it on my own," she replied tartly.

Sam appeared upset, on the verge of tears. The observation agitated Jack.

"Carter?" he queried, but she didn't respond, mutely trying to stay in control. This was so not what she had imagined happening. It was a catastrophe. His suddenly compassionate expression did not make her feel any better about the disastrous evening. "Please let me take you home," he said in a quietly sympathetic tone that appeared out of sync with most of his earlier behavior.

"We've both been drinking. Neither of us should drive." Sam wriggled uncomfortably in her seat, wishing to find an excuse to abandon him to his fate.

"We'll get a cab. Leave the car here and I'll have someone pick it up tomorrow."

"I…"

"I insist." He was thinking maybe he could haul himself out of the hole he seemed to have dug for himself, atone for his earlier offensiveness in Carter's eyes.

She could see determination in his features - O'Neill obstinacy, although he would have considered it more like tenacity, a sometimes too subtle difference. It was way too difficult to refuse him and Sam was thinking something similar to his thoughts but in reverse. She was the one in the hole and frantically wanting to climb out, to mend fences and find some common ground, so she caved.

"Okay," she agreed in a small voice that plucked Jack's heart strings.

He longed to touch her, to console her, but he could not bring himself to try after she'd rejected the hand he had offered her earlier. Jack had intended it as a conciliatory gesture, a sign of something meaningful: friendship, maybe more than that if it was still possible. She, however, had disregarded his intimate gesture and that still hurt.

O'Neill tried to tell himself that she had misunderstood his meaning and he wanted that to be true very much. Too much, so he failed to convince himself. He always had been crap at that kind of thing.

TBC

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2009 Su Freund


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I'm happy to see you are still enjoying the story and hope you like this continuation :-D

Warning: contains a use of a vulgar word!

**The Future is Unwritten Part 3**

The reticent pair had no idea they might be on similar wavelengths, no real notion of what the other might be thinking and feeling. So, despite both of them longing for something different, their mutual discomfort continued through the cab ride and Jack walked Sam to her front door without speaking.

During their journey, he'd thought about how to extricate himself from the mess he'd made, wanting to find some way of turning their evening around. Once he reflected, Jack was not sure holding out his hand in O'Malley's was obvious enough. He had failed to make his intentions clear, so an unambiguous demonstration of his feelings might spark the transformation he sought. If he could not find a way with words, he would act. That is what O'Neill was best at, after all - except when it came to acting on his feelings for Sam.

"You gonna invite me in for a nightcap?" he asked surprisingly as they reached her door, catching her totally off-guard. His request was not what Sam had expected after the way their evening had gone and she stared at him in stunned silence for long and, to Jack, agonizing moments.

Sam was torn. If their evening continued the way it was going, it might become the most mortifying experience of her life. So, she was tempted to call a halt and run for cover. If she did that, the odds for ever getting a chance with Jack were slim to none. Then again, if she swallowed her fears and pride and acquiesced, there still might be a small hope.

"Um, yes sir, if you like." To Sam, her voice sounded feeble and she found her weakness embarrassing.

Jack, however, was oblivious to her unease. He took her agreement as a positive signal, a green light. He had been right - she'd misconstrued him before; she'd meant her invitation for a drink to be a date after all; she was willing to take the next step, etcetera. He was too busy swinging toward becoming Mr Positive to notice any reluctance in her tone or manner.

"Yes, I'd like. I'll just go pay the cab driver, okay?"

She nodded mutely, opening her front door and walking in, then leaving it ajar for him to follow. He appeared in her living room a few moments later and she realized it had been many years since he had stepped over her threshold.

About to offer him that drink, she waited while he shucked off his jacket, hovering gawkily by her drinks cabinet. Neither of them said anything and he approached her in silence.

The brooding look in his eyes worried her and what he did next staggered her. Grabbing her inelegantly and pulling her closer with considerable force, his kiss was urgent and heated - overly potent like an attack rather than an advance. She struggled to get away from him.

"What are you doing?" Sam challenged in confusion. Her thoughts were a tumultuous mess. She had not anticipated Jack would kiss her in that appalling way, if at all. He'd scared her and that overpowering and terrible authority was not something she wanted or needed from him.

Unwittingly, he had revealed something of himself that Sam recognized and understood, even longed for sometimes, but it was the wrong moment. She needed a gentler, kinder Jack and this manifestation was far from that.

O'Neill too was bewildered, not realizing the fervor of his kiss had scared her so much. Convinced he was doing the right thing at last, her reaction floored him. Suffering another rebuff was painful.

"I thought that was what you wanted," he said in a low gravelly voice, his eyes blazing with resentment and frustration - a horrifying countenance. "Isn't that why you asked me for a drink tonight?"

Sam felt hurt and angry. She had expected something better from him, not certain what exactly, but something nobler than he gave.

"No! Holy Hannah, why don't you just screw me and put both of us out of our misery?" she barked back at him, venting her rage and disenchantment in an uncharacteristic manner.

Jack reeled with astonishment at her outburst. Sam herself was shocked at her retort and perceived the anguish in his eyes. Then he turned away to conceal his heartache, scrubbing a hand through his unruly hair.

"That's what this is all about?" he countered furiously, his sorrow manifesting as self-protective anger. "Or you think it is? And I thought you knew me better, had more respect for me than that. I should go."

Putting his jacket back on he moved toward the door feeling humiliated and badly let down. Dazed and uncertain, regretting her sharp and atypical retort, Sam pursued him out into her hall and to her front door, crying out to stop him.

"Jack!" She was not certain she really wanted him to leave. Not like this. Her head spun and she was unsure what she wanted or even comprehended anymore.

Jack had heard that name spoken from those lips so rarely that he stopped in his tracks, hand hovering uncertainly over the door knob. Sam could tell from his stance that he was pissed but she wanted to appeal to him.

"I don't want you to go," she told him in a low whisper, wishing she could see the expression on his face to better judge what he might be thinking.

"Then what the hell do you want, Carter?" he shouted. Still fuming and smarting, his defensive attack continued. "You think I'm suddenly going to bare my soul to you, confide in you about my deepest feelings like you're my best friend? That is so not going to happen. So… what…? You want to offer me a comfort fuck, is that it? A total stranger could give me that."

Sam gasped at his unkind words but, although Jack recognized and regretted her outrage, he still did not turn to face her because he could not. It was too late to take back his hasty and hurtful outpouring of anger and distress, even though he was genuinely remorseful of his words.

Jack was thinking tonight had been a very bad idea. He should have waited until he was in a better frame of mind, but for how long? He'd done a lot of waiting already, although accepted he was as culpable as she was and probably more so. Now, he was totally confused about where they stood and where they were going.

Sam was close to tears, too stunned to speak – appalled that something she had hoped would go so well had gone so wrong. Jack remained unmoving, neither leaving nor staying. He felt trapped like a statue that had no choice about its location.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked quietly, his fury apparently vanquished and replaced by something more approachable and kindlier. Sam continued to be mad at him, though.

"You're right, you should go," she stated coldly.

Her impassive tone made him turn around and he noticed tears brimming under her eyelids. Realizing she held back a raft of emotions, Jack suddenly grasped that he was breaking Sam's heart as much as she was his.

"I don't really want to, Sam. Not yet. Not like this," he said softly, echoing her earlier sentiments. If they parted without reconciling, they might be lost forever.

His eyes were regretful and it was a disarmingly genuine and heartfelt statement, although Sam noticed some measure of defeat in his tone. Being open and honest about his feelings was difficult for Jack, she understood that about him. They had bottled up all of their hopes for too long.

Once again, she vacillated over abandoning him to his fate. Sam couldn't do it because she cared for and respected him far too much. He deserved more from her. They both deserved more.

"Then don't," she said in a low voice. "Don't go like this."

He seemed to consider for a moment and then he bobbed his head briefly in a small nod, slowly moving toward her. Stopping in front of her, he took hold of Sam's arm and gave it a light squeeze. A small, sardonic smile appeared on his lips and a vague look of something that appeared to be relief. They stood eye to eye as if spellbound and then she smiled back weakly, prompting Jack to speak.

"What the hell is happening, Sam?" he whispered, his face so close to hers they almost touched. She could feel his breath like a zephyr on her cheeks.

"I-I'm not sure I really know, sir."

"I guess I should be relieved I'm not the only one who hasn't got a clue," he quipped lightly, breaking the spell. Then, still grasping her arm, he led her back into the living room and sat on the chair she indicated. Although the tension had eased slightly, it still hung over them like smog.

"Want that drink?" she asked.

"Got any scotch?" he queried and she went to pour him one.

"Neat?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

When she handed him the drink, he noticed she had poured one for herself. They were large measures and Jack did not really want to get smashed so he took a small sip, setting the glass down on her coffee table. He let her settle onto the couch opposite him before speaking again.

"Why did you ask me out for that drink?" he asked, his sparkling dark eyes burning into her soul. The question threw her and she shifted gracelessly on the couch feeling inept.

"We were getting on so well earlier. I suppose I just thought… After Ba'al, you needed… I wanted… I don't see you that often now you're in DC."

Trying to keep her voice level and calm, she could not imagine this was how it sounded to him. Those bright eyes seemed to see right into her. Sam might have been surprised to learn that Jack had no notion of what she might be thinking or feeling.

"No," he agreed. Not nearly often enough, he thought, although if tonight was anything to go by maybe that was for the best. But there was a glimmer of progress now.

"It's been a strange kind of day. Unsettling," she said.

Sam was struggling to make conversation, her self-assurance sapped of strength. She was not sure if this was what she was always like when he was around or not. If she was, he must think her very gauche.

She didn't see him going for that type of woman at all. Sam thought he had liked her because she had brains and was half-way attractive. That woman seemed totally absent for now. This was another unsettling thing to add to a whole heap of disconcerting things about the day.

"Yes," he agreed again, his monosyllabic response making Sam edgier.

"I wanted you to know that if you needed a friend you could count on me, sir."

"A friend…" He paused, his eyes diverting away from hers as he reflected. "Sure, Carter. If that's what you want."

He seemed disappointed by her responses, upset even. It surprised her that he was so lacking in certainty. To her, that appeared unlike him. Sam was used to Jack's self-assurance but, evidently, this was absent right now. Friendship was not all she wanted and she realized he needed her to say so.

"No, that's… awww, crap! I guess I had hoped tonight might be a kind of date." It was a relief to admit that finally. For some extraordinary reason, the confession seemed to buck her up, providing a modicum of the confidence she had thought lost.

He could not meet her eyes as he replied nervously. "A kind of date? Then it was a disaster, don't you think? I've been rude and unbearable."

"I wouldn't rank it amongst one of my top ten nights out. Not your finest hour, nor mine, but I do know you better, sir." He glanced up at her and Sam smiled. "You're always rude and unbearable," she joked.

He laughed, recognizing she was kidding and appreciating the humor of her retort. Jack was more than willing to be at the butt end of her mockery. His reaction to her joke, and Sam's big smile, relieved more of the strain between them, although a hint of wariness lingered in Jack's eyes.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked, a small lopsided smile remaining on his lips.

"I don't know." She felt slightly flustered by the question, genuinely uncertain. Grasping her scotch, she took a large gulp, causing Jack to raise his eyebrows in alarm.

"Whoa, there, Sam!" he exclaimed with a wild hand gesture that signaled she should slow down. "That was quite a shot."

She eyed him sharply, biting back a pointed rejoinder that it was none of his business. All she saw in his face was genuine concern. The tension having eased, she did not want it to return. She was about to reply in an appeasing manner when he jumped in first.

"It's not for me to say, Carter," he said. "Not my business."

She grinned in a way that always brought sunshine into Jack's heart and he smiled back.

"No it's not your business but you're probably right. I suddenly feel a little bit woozy." As she scrubbed her hands over her face and through her hair, he stood, moving closer and squatting in front of her.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine," she said with a giggle in her voice and then regarded him seriously. "I guess I needed some Dutch courage."

"I'm that bad?" he responded with a jaunty smile.

"You scared the hell out me before, Jack."

Abruptly he stood up again, backing away and obviously disturbed. "I-I didn't mean to frighten you. Apart from the fact that Ba'al is now a dead snakehead, it's been a bad day."

"Yes, it has."

"Can I sit there?" he asked indicating the empty space next to her on the couch. "I promise I won't bite again." She nodded and he sat down, taking a hand in his. "I would never hurt you, not deliberately."

"I know, but you can be a pretty imposing man." She tittered nervously, watching his hand as it gently caressed the back of hers. The act made her heart flutter with excitement. She could barely breathe.

"I guess I can be a little bit overbearing," he admitted. "But you should never be scared of me. I hate that you feel like that. I care about you."

This was the gentle, kind Jack she craved so much and Sam relaxed another notch, his response freeing her from inaction. Her thumb touched his cheek and brushed it affectionately. Jack coughed softly, a nervous reaction because her action unnerved him a little. Their eyes met, locking on to each other.

"You have a dark side, sir," she replied with total honesty, "and that's all right because you should have in your line of work, and it's understandable too because so many bad things have happened to you. I won't be scared of it anymore, I promise."

Her words moved him and he coughed again, still feeling slightly off kilter and out of his depth.

"I don't know how to respond to that," he croaked after a lengthy pause.

"Why am I not surprised?" she said with a mocking smile.

The tension was palpable, but of a different kind to their earlier uncomfortable experience - a frisson that seemed to crackle in the air around them. Sexual tension. After what had happened earlier, Jack resisted an impulse to kiss her again. He didn't want to screw up. Hastily, he dropped his eyes away from hers and let go of her hand, phased by that tension and backing off slightly.

"Um… right… so… um… where were we?" he said with a catch in his throat, the hoarseness of his voice reflecting his emotional turmoil. "Ah, yes! What happens now, right?"

Taking a deep breath, Jack plunged on before his courage failed him. "So, you wanna try again? Date? Try to make next time better? Do you want a next time, Carter? I don't see why you would after tonight's calamity. I really screwed up. But I guess I have to ask, right? Jeez, I should never have kissed you like that. It was clumsy and heavy handed, and we haven't even been on a proper date yet, for god's sakes! I-I…"

Jack was flustered and apprehensive. His words rattled out at breakneck speed and his hands danced wildly in the air. Sam watched fascinated and amused by his nervousness. It was kind of cute and a little bit unexpected. He'd trailed off, looking at her and biting his lip, and she realized she was smirking idiotically.

"What?" he queried, looking slightly at a loss. Breaking eye contact, he reached for a deflecting prop, his glass of whiskey, which was still mainly untouched.

"You didn't screw up, sir. I'd like to try; go on a date with you."

He let out the breath he had been holding in, reassured, chuckling and putting the glass down again. "You could start by trying not to call me sir."

She snorted quietly, a kind of laugh. "That won't be easy."

"Nothing about this is going to be easy, Carter.

"I said I knew you better, didn't I? I hope you know me better too."

He nodded, smiling. "C'mere." She grinned and he placed an arm around her, tenderly pulling her closer so her head rested on his shoulder. "I should have done this a very long time ago," he said, kissing her hair.

"Wish you had."

"I'm sorry." It was the first direct apology for anything he had done that Sam had heard for an age, if ever. Jack generally danced around the sorry word, doing anything but actually say it. He didn't explain why he hadn't acted before and Sam didn't ask him to. It didn't matter. What counted was the here and now.

TBC

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2009 Su Freund


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Nessie1701 kindly pointed out an error I made in Chapter 3, using the word phased instead of fazed. Gee, spank me rosy! What was I thinking? Doh! blush I guess I can think of worse errors, but FCOL... rolls eyes I mention it here because I never correct my stories once posted. Life's too short, as the gorgeous RDA (sigh!) might say, so they are out there with warts and all. I'd rather they were perfect but it's not like I'm getting paid for this, lol!

**The Future is Unwritten Part 4**

See Part 1 for disclaimer and other information

They sat tranquilly for a long time, with Jack squeezing her arm occasionally and Sam cuddling back, gestures of affection and comfort. Neither of them felt any need to talk for those crucial and possibly life changing moments. She was surprised, therefore, when Jack finally broke the muteness of their peaceful embrace and even more taken aback by what he said.

"You're still wondering how I feel about today, right?" he asked quietly. When she nodded agreement, he continued. "Then I want to tell you." She said nothing, not wishing put him off.

"Ba'al did some awful things to me and it screwed with my head for quite a while. Still does sometimes, but it was a long time ago. What he did, how it affected me… it was bad, Sam, one of the worst things ever. I almost lost myself, lost my soul, but in the end I didn't." She shuddered at the thought.

"Today brought it all rushing back like some freakish nightmare, but you don't need to worry about me. I'm mostly fine. I can't say I'm unhappy he's dead. I just regret I didn't kill the bastard myself."

As one of his more candid moments of the night, it seemed tantamount to him opening up and thus like a genuine step forward. Sam gave him a gentle cuddle and when it seemed he'd say nothing more, she spoke up.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"What? You blame yourself for what happened with Ba'al?" He pulled away from her so he could see her face, grasping her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. "I've never blamed you."

"You only agreed to have a Tok'ra implanted because I begged you to!"

She looked upset, guilty, and Jack didn't want that. She had done the right thing and there was no way she could have known how it would turn out.

"I did it because we needed information. Or I thought we did."

Sam shook her head, not convinced she believed that entirely. "I didn't want to lose you."

"And I didn't want to die, Sam. I'm okay. I'm alive because of you."

"But you wanted to say no - you did say no at first. I persuaded you. You would never have taken a symbiote just to live, would you?"

He sucked in a breath, knowing that was true. "No, but agreeing to it was my responsibility, my choice. It wasn't your fault. All you did was explain the option. Anyone in the SGC might have done that. It wasn't personal."

"We both know that isn't true," she argued. "General Hammond thought you were more likely to respond to me. I knew damned well it wasn't what you would want, but I asked you anyway because I didn't want you to die. You think I really gave a damn about the information Kanan might provide? Watching you slip away was breaking my heart. I couldn't bear it. That's why I asked you to blend with him. It was very personal."

Jack smiled thinly, letting go of her chin and smoothing his fingers through her hair instead. "So point a finger at the wily old Texan. He played you. I've never thought of blaming you for what happened. None of us could have known, could we? We took those kinds of risks every day. We never knew what we were getting ourselves into."

She recognized the truth in that. "You're right. General Hammond once said we were in over our heads. We always were, still are."

"Then don't torment yourself, Sam. I can't live with that, but I can live with what Ba'al did to me. I live with it every day and I'm all right. I'm here, I'm alive." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm glad I wasn't alone tonight. Debacle or not, I needed… someone, and I'm pleased it was you."

She smiled, brushing her lips over his cheek and, giving into his urge, Jack kissed her then; a slow, gentle and loving kiss quite unlike the earlier one.

Sam literally tingled, feeling like she was melting into him as he explored her mouth. Her tongue ventured into him, seeking each nook and cranny. She wanted to feel, see and taste everything about him, familiarize herself with each delicious morsel of Jack O'Neill.

Grasping his head, she pressed it as if she could get even closer, wanting to be as close as humanly possible. Her fingers rummaged through his hair and over his scalp, winding down to his neck. She moved a hand to push on his back, massaging it lightly at first but with increasing vigor.

Jack loved the taste of her, her open response to him, everything about that kiss. This might not have been their first, but it was the first they could offer each other freely. He wasn't certain but thought that made all the difference. He berated himself for being such a sappy closet romantic. Luckily, no one could hear those idealistic thoughts inside the head of the reputedly hardnosed General O'Neill.

The kiss caressed all his senses. More than caressed, they exploded. It was thrilling, an irresistible stratospheric ride that made his gut churn in the best way possible. Jack was fairly sure he'd left his stomach on the ground while busy soaring up in those clouds.

"Holy Hannah!" Sam exclaimed when he eventually pulled away. They were both panting and slightly stunned. He smiled crookedly and their eyes locked again. It was as if they could see into each other's souls - a moment of pure understanding and deep affection, maybe even love.

"It's been a long time since I had a kiss like that," Jack murmured, free with his feelings for a change. His low voice was cracked and throaty, his senses overwhelmed by emotion. "God, Sam…"

Not able to find the words, he continued to mesmerize her with his gaze and comb his fingers through her hair.

"Now I know what they mean when they talk about sparks flying," she whispered and he flashed a quick grin at her, briefly resting his forehead on hers before capturing her eyes again.

They stared at each other mutely for a while until Jack suddenly became self-conscious of his vulnerability, fearful of what she might see if she could read everything about him in his eyes. So, abruptly, he wrenched them away, withdrawing from their embrace, his gaze skittering off into the middle distance.

"I've got to go back to DC in the morning," he announced flatly.

Sam wondered about his need to bring them back to earth, as if he deliberately wished to spoil the moment. Then she thought this might be exactly what he wished to do. Get his head straight, pull back a little and regroup. Jack had exposed more of himself than he was comfortable with, she realized.

'Gee, he's crap at dealing with feelings. What am I getting myself into?' she thought, although Sam had already known this about him, had been surprised by what he had already openly revealed. His hasty withdrawal, therefore, should not have startled her, but it did nonetheless. She was disappointed, filled with uncertainty again.

"I know," she said, pretending for now that she hadn't noticed anything amiss, debating whether to push him. "I guess that date will have to wait, huh?"

"I guess."

Opting to press a little, to try to fathom what he was thinking, she made a suggestion, speaking with more bravado than she felt. "I've got a couple of days downtime. I could fly back with you."

He did not even look at her, seeking the distraction of watching his hands fidget fretfully. "We'd hardly see each other. I'm gonna be busy."

She stared at him thoughtfully for a while before finding the courage to speak up again. Sam was thinking what did she have to lose? Only everything, but she'd already done all that good things only come to those who wait stuff. Now was the time to act. This was what tonight had been all about. 'Faint heart ne'er won fair lady,' she thought, 'or on this case, fair man.'

"Don't back away from me now, Jack," she ventured boldly. "Not when we've come so far in just one night."

"Who said anything about backing away?" he retorted a bit too defensively.

"You didn't have to say anything."

"I'm that obvious?" he queried with an astonished groan and Sam smothered a titter as it was so wholly inappropriate in the circumstances.

"I haven't known you for all these years without getting some idea of what you're like."

He chuckled uneasily. "Told you this wouldn't be easy."

"Sure, but you don't have to go out of your way to make it harder, do you?"

He detected slight exasperation in her tone. "It's all so… sudden… overwhelming," he said falteringly, trying to justify himself. If she knew him as she claimed, she would get it.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing. What, you think you're the only one feeling a little exposed right now?"

He said nothing and his silence irritated and distressed her. "For crying out loud, Jack!" she snapped crossly. Her ire got his attention, made him glance at her with amazement.

"I-I don't like being out of control," he confessed.

"I know that. Nor do I, but now is exactly when we should be feeling out of control, Jack! If you can't handle getting close to me we might as well give up now!"

Much to his surprise, he noticed tears forming in her eyes. Unexpectedly she got up and fled from the room, he assumed because she didn't want him to see how upset she was. For a few moments, he froze, unable to react and not sure what to do when he did. Then he followed.

Jack knew she was right, and didn't want to hurt her or mess up, but that did not make the situation any easier. If anything, it made it harder. If he didn't care so much… but he did. He cared too much and this was his problem. Today, and tonight, had unleashed a multitude of previously pent up emotions and he was having difficulty coping with them.

He found Sam in her bedroom, lying on her bed staring at the ceiling. She did not look at him when he entered, but nor was she crying as he had feared.

"I can't help who I am," he told her, hovering tentatively in the doorway. "I'm not very good at this."

"You're crap at it," Sam replied, thinking she was darned crap at it too, but maybe she was marginally better than him.

"That kiss… I-it told you everything. Or it should have."

Sam looked at him then, noting his uneasy stance. Hands placed firmly in his pockets, rocking on his feet, his expression begging for understanding.

"I guess it said quite a lot," she answered, a faint smile appearing on her lips. Yeah, it had told her one whole heck of a lot. Him too, probably.

He took a few hesitant steps toward her. "C'mere," he said and when she didn't move, he added, "Please."

So she got up, approaching, and he embraced her in that way he had of making it count for everything, making almost anything forgivable and understandable - and better.

"I'll try to ease off on the self-protect mode, okay?" he said. Self-protect mode was almost the perfect way of describing it, she thought. "But I can't promise to be someone I'm not, Carter."

Squeezing him gently, Sam pondered that. "I don't want you to be."

Jack was thinking all women want that, but didn't voice the opinion. Saying nothing, she steered him toward the bed, and they both sat there wordlessly and without touching. Then she took his hand, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Wanna just lie here for a while?" she asked and he nodded mutely. So, they lay down next to each other and Sam wrapped her arms around him. After a short time, he returned the embrace and they huddled together in tranquil quiescence giving each other an occasional demonstrative squeeze.

"This is nice," he said after a lengthy silence.

"Yes, it is. Peaceful," she muttered, raising her head from where it was buried in his chest and looking up at him. His eyes were closed but he appeared a little haggard. "You look tired."

"I guess I am. Shattered." In fact, he was struggling to stay awake but felt falling asleep now, like this, was inapt and possibly even boorish. "I ought to be making a move." He did not, however, budge.

"You could stay," Sam offered hopefully, reluctant to let him go.

He opened his eyes then, catching her scrutiny of him, and smiled faintly. "Um… I'd kind of like that but I'm not sure it's such a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked and Jack could see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Because you won't respect me in the morning," he joked with a grin. "Seriously, Carter. Let's get a couple of dates under our belts first. We shouldn't do anything we might regret."

She eyed him with disbelief. "Regret? Sir, we aren't exactly strangers. We've known each other for years."

Jack snorted cynically. "The fact that you refer to me as sir and the way it played out earlier tonight proves we don't really know each other, Carter. Carter!" he exclaimed, raising his eyes to the heavens and thumping himself on the side of his head with the flat of his palm. "Oy! See what I mean? We can't even call each other by our first names! Let's make sure you really like me first, huh?"

Flustered, Sam stumbled over her response. "I didn't mean… we don't have to do anything. I wasn't necessarily suggesting…"

"Sex?" he queried with a wry smile when he noticed the slight flush of her cheeks and the wide-eyed, self-conscious look. "You weren't?"

"Well, I-I… I'd like to…um, do that… but…" she trailed off feeling embarrassed and at a loss for the right words.

It was true that she wanted to, of course. The offer of sex was implicit in her invitation for him to stay. She had, however, primarily intended that he sleep there. The man was clearly exhausted, Sam could see that. He needed rest. Besides, more than anything she simply did not want him to leave.

Reticence from a man like Jack O'Neill surprised her though. Any man refusing sex with someone he was attracted to seemed slightly unusual - but this was Jack. He was an honorable and principled man. She understood his reasoning and respected him for it. Maybe he was right. He often was, but that didn't mean he couldn't sleep over, did it?

Jack looked amused by her discomfiture. "You're embarrassed by the "S" word?" One of his hands gestured quote marks around the letter "S" and he was smiling gleefully.

"I, um…" Sam appeared to be looking anywhere but directly at him and fidgeted restlessly.

"Carter," he started, grasping her arm. She looked into his eyes, which is exactly what he wanted, and then Jack echoed her earlier words to him back at her. "If you can't handle getting close to me we might as well give up now!"

She stared at him for a moment and burst out laughing.

"What?" he asked, with an expression of bewilderment.

"I only meant… you look like you need a good night's sleep."

Jack's eyebrows jerked up in query. "Oh! So the sex notion is all mine, huh? A product of my fevered mind?"

"Well, not entirely…" she replied with a grin. "I already like you well enough for that, Jack, even if you are a grouch."

This time, it was his turn to laugh and when Sam joined in, the sounds of their mutual mirth echoed around her bedroom until they laughed themselves out. Then she slumped with her chin on his chest, looking up at his face, and Jack softly stroked her cheek.

"Not sure why that was so funny," she commented.

"Me either," he agreed. "But it feels good to laugh. Thanks, Sam."

"For being so side-splittingly comical?" she asked with a small smirk.

"For the company," he replied, his expression more serious. She said nothing in response, but her smirk turned into a genuine huge smile. "Hey, I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you."

"Really?"

"So, can I?"

"Kiss away." She was thinking there was nothing she would like more than one of those sublime Jack O'Neill kisses.

"It would help if you brought your lips closer. Like right up to my face, for example." Beaming absurdly, she moved her head closer to his. "Right up here… that's right. Perfect."

What followed came as close to x-rated as you could get fully clothed. Their longing was powerful, flagrant, but neither made the final move towards a true seduction. Afterward, they merely held each other close, speaking very little, until Sam realized Jack had fallen asleep. Seemed he would be staying after all.

Carefully extricating herself from his embrace, not wishing to wake him, she got up and found an extra bedcover, cautiously laying it on top of him. Then, just as circumspectly, she climbed back in, draping her arm over his chest.

"Goodnight, Jack. Sweet dreams," she whispered, wishing him to have a peaceful night undisturbed by nightmares about his past with Ba'al. Sam hoped she had helped him ward off those so recently and starkly conjured horrors for a while, as both she and Daniel had wished to earlier that day. Softly kissing his cheek, she then settled down to watch him sleeping, something she might gladly do every night for the rest of her life.

That was for the future, though. They still had the past to contend with, many roads to travel and much work to do. Worth the attempt, and the effort, she thought. The past is the past, after all. The future is unwritten.

The End

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2009 Su Freund


End file.
